“But she killed all those people,” Saetien said. “Thousands and thousands of people.”
“Yes. I think some part of her didn’t expect to survive the unleashing of all that power. Maybe some part of her didn’t want to survive and carry the burden of all those dead. But she gave Daemon her word that they would be married when he got back from Hayll, and what he wanted—what he needed—would have mattered more to her than her own peace of mind.
“She told me some things about that unleashing and what happened afterward. Not everything, but more than she’d told anyone else. Including Daemon.” Butler hesitated. “Especially Daemon.”
“Why didn’t she tell him?”
“She had to make sure that she would succeed, so she unleashed most of her power and knew there would be some backlash. Because of her promise to Daemon, she kept some power back to form an Ebony shield around herself. She miscalculated. Or maybe in the moments when she created that shield she remembered Wilhelmina calling her a monster and wondered if everyone would see her that way. Maybe she didn’t make the shield quite strong enough. Not deliberately, but in a moment when her courage failed. Maybe she expected to become a whisper in the Darkness and not have to see another person she loved look on her with horror.
“She hadn’t known that the Queen of Arachna, that weaver of dreams, had seen what Jaenelle had intended and also saw a way to save her. She hadn’t known that Ladvarian had rallied the rest of the kindred to use their strength and power and skills in order to tend all the healing webs and hold their Lady to the living while she was put back together, piece by piece, bone shard by bone shard. She hadn’t known that Lorn, the last great Prince of the Dragon race that had created the Blood, had made it possible for Daemon, Lucivar, and Saetan to hold on to Witch’s Self as she fell into the abyss.
“The backlash hit, and Jaenelle’s body exploded. But the shield she created must have held her suspended in that moment just long enough for the flesh to be captured in all the webs the Arachnians had spun. And Daemon, Lucivar, and Saetan managed to stop her Self from falling into the Darkness, out of anyone’s reach.”
Butler let out a shuddering breath. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Not the tonic,” Saetien replied.
He smiled. “Tea?” When she nodded, he went into the kitchen to put the kettle on. He gave her the illusion of privacy, but he stayed aware of her and the emotions churning inside her. He returned a few minutes later with a mug of tea and a glass of yarbarah. Handing her the mug, he resumed his seat on the hassock.
“Her whole body exploded?” Saetien asked after taking a sip of tea. “Everything?”
“Yes.”
“The kindred put her back together?”
“Yes.”
“So she felt that pain for a few mo—”
“Weeks,” he interrupted. “She endured that pain for weeks, Saetien. Maybe not immediately afterward. Being in the healing webs would have numbed the pain, at least to some extent. But she rose before the healing was complete, and after that, there was unrelenting pain.”
“Why did she rise before the healing was complete?”
“Because she loved Daemon Sadi, and he was breaking under the grief of losing her. You have to remember that he’d waited seventeen hundred years for her, and they were together for a few months. It wasn’t enough time. After so many centuries of waiting, of yearning, of loving a dream he wasn’t sure he would ever see, when she was finally there, it wasn’t enough time. Lucivar had a few years with her, and he had a family to anchor him. Saetan had the experience of participating in the years while she grew up to become the Queen she would be. But Daemon? Given a choice, he would have died with her rather than live another day without her. He wasn’t given that choice, but he’d lost the will to live. His father and brother could see him failing a little more day by day.
“Then the day came when they were told that Jaenelle had survived. And finally the day came when Daemon could bring her back to the Hall to continue healing.”
“Did my father know she was in pain?”
“In pain, yes, but not the extent of the pain. She rose too soon in order to save him. She would never tell him how much his grief had cost her. She loved him with everything in her—and he loved her the same way. Still loves her. He would do anything for Jaenelle, and that was what made him so dangerous. And she would do anything for him.” Butler drained his glass. “After all, she came back because he needed her to be more than an occasional dream and a song in the Darkness. She came back and made everyone aware of her return in order to help him save you.”
Saetien set aside the mug of tea. “Everything has a price.”
“Yes.”
“I’d like to go home now.”
“Home?”
“Eileen’s house.”
Butler touched her hand, a moment’s connection. “She was dreams made flesh, Saetien. Because of the dreamers and what they needed from that dream, it was her nature to respond to people who asked for her help. Especially Daemon. Always Daemon. But I don’t think she would have wanted you to choose that path in the same way. You can be so many things that she couldn’t be.”
“Because she was the Queen?”
“Yes. Because she was the Queen.”
They didn’t say anything more while they waited for the pony cart to arrive. They didn’t speak on the drive back to Eileen’s house.
As he walked back to his cottage, Butler wondered if he’d done too much, said too much.
He would find out when the sun set tomorrow.
FIFTY-NINE
Feelings clashed and burned through Saetien, scorching her heart, sizzling under her skin, igniting her thoughts until she had to do something before the fire took her and turned her into cold ash.
She tried helping out at the puppy school, but all the Scelties sensed there was something wrong with her, and with her around, the pups paid no attention to their lessons or the instructors. They were too busy trying to climb into her lap and offer comfort with licks and warm little bodies.
She tried helping Ryder with the foals, but they, too, knew something was wrong with her and crowded around her until Ryder created a shield and gently pushed them back before one—or more—of them ended up standing on her feet.
Nothing wrong with her leg. Nothing at all. Eileen had been so furious with Butler when he’d brought Saetien back last night that she’d sent Kildare to fetch the Healer to examine Saetien and tell a functioning, feeling adult what was wrong with the girl. The Healer confirmed there was no physical damage. A spell had created the feeling of the leg exploding, and what Saetien was experiencing now was the memory of that pain. It would fade.
But it was still there as Saetien strode to Butler’s cottage. Faint, yes. Not really pain anymore, true. But it was there, and she had to do something with all these feelings.
She’d tried to leave Shelby behind, but that hadn’t worked. The puppy had done his best to keep up with her at first, but by the time she realized he would struggle to follow her until he hurt himself, she couldn’t send him back—and the adult Sceltie Warlord who followed both of them wasn’t going to help her. Not with that. So, with the sun well into morning, there she was, carrying Shelby and striding toward the cottage of a man who hadn’t seen daylight in centuries.
When she reached the cottage, she opened the gate and closed it with a crash. No movement in the cottage. No flutter of curtains to indicate someone looking out to see what the noise had been. Did Butler sleep during the day, or did he just have to avoid daylight? She knew so little about the demon-dead. Had never been interested. Why hadn’t she been interested?